What you Need
by Constance-Lirit
Summary: (Man(OC) x man). Thrawe, a servant, cares for his master; an oracle that many, from all over the country and farther, come to see. Thrawe reflects on his time with Ulquiorra during one of his days working along side him, and is content with his life yet frustrated about something at the same time. (This is a 'fluff-oneshot'.)


Everyday they came to see him. The oracle, the wise one - the man who knew what they needed, but not what they wanted. A selfless figure with an ability to see into the short-future of any one man's life. They were greedy, they were loud, they thanked him but never once meant it, not many of them anyway. Everyday Thrawe observed these people flocking from all over the country to witness his historical wisdom for themselves.  
The brunet watched with wandering opal eyes, his face remotely curious but never astonished by what each person was given. He would make a guess about what each enclosed object could possibly be used for, but he would never quite know fully how much power they would establish on any man's future.

He sometimes smiled mockingly at the expressions he was given when an item was past through Thrawe to them, an object that held no greater meaning than the worth of its intents and purposes before then. A pen, a comb, a pair of shoes; no one item had not been given to a visitor yet and received an almost boggled response. 'A pair of shoes, but I'm a noble, what do I need with shoes?' some would ask, clearly outraged, and, with a sense of monotonous response, Thrawe would always reply 'That is for your future to decide'.

By evening it would be time to finally escape angered faces, and begging eyes. They never left in silence; there was always someone yelling for more, someone complaining about how long they have been waiting, someone who has the patience of a small, excited child. Thrawe could not understand how his master put up with the same thing every day, every month, every year. He never asked for anything in return even though he could. These people who flocked to him had everything, born and bred to live upon the laps of virgins and wealth.

Stood by the window Thrawe stared quietly at the dying sun on the scorched horizon. His master had no need to live in a place as destroyed and uninhabitable as this, and yet he stayed here as though it was paradise. Farms could not grow there, trees withered and became hollow husks, the ground itself would become so hot food would burn within a matter of minutes. He could have lands greener than on the other side, he could have a palace that hung in the sky and was brought to life every night by the stars themselves.

Turning Thrawe looked upon the sitting figure of his master, he was thin as though he had never eaten more than a few crumbs a day, and given the rest to the animals that surrounded the castle. If he was left unattended he would probably do just that.  
"Master, it is time to eat." Thrawe spoke softly, though his gaze remained harsh.  
"Very well." the pale figure replied, their snow-white hand extending out to brandish a cup for Thrawe to pour liquid into. His large emerald eyes observing each large, plump vegetable and meat on the platters before him as he rested.  
"Today was busy, master. I don't think there's a country that has not entered your home now." the brunet begun, testing each food religiously before allowing it to so much as hover over Ulquiorra's plate.

Watching the oracle carefully Thrawe selected the next food for him to try depending on what caught his master's eye next. Servants, who went to spread the word of their master's abilities, would bring home delicacies and treats, strange animals and even stranger clothing. This evening Ulquiorra had been wearing a veil wrapped around his neck and a white hakama, but no shirt - a rare sight Thrawe could not help but view.  
"You are looking at me again, Thrawe." Ulquiorra simply uttered while picking up a Turkish delight, to which his servants eyes immediately flicked away.  
"My apologies, master. I am just not used to seeing you without your cloak." Thrawe uttered, using a knife and fork to delicately pick up another treat and place it upon the plate in front of the oracle.  
"Does it bother you so?" Ulquiorra enquired, turning to look at the brunet who merely examined his master for a moment and then shook his head.  
"Of course not. A sight into anything of my master is something I hold dear." the brunet spoke, cheekily eating a small dumpling he had tasted before and knew was perfectly safe.  
"Is that so." the raven haired figure spoke in monotone, placing a small, pinkie-sized sausage between his teeth.  
"Do you think the creatures they get these sausages from are small, hand-sized pigs, master?" Thrawe jested, piercing the meat to hold it up to his nose and sniff.

Though Ulquiorra did not reply he did look at the other sausage on his plate with a minute look of thought, as though such a thing could even be possible.  
"Do you always say such ridiculous things?" the oracle enquired, placing it into his mouth before he could spend anymore time pondering such a silly idea.  
"If it would make you smile I'd say many wondrous things, Ulquiorra." Thrawe murmured, sucking the sausage into his mouth with a dry pop.  
"Do I not look happy, Thrawe?" the man asked, giving him his usual, almost concrete-fixed, forlorn expression.  
"I never seen you smile, not like you used to do when we were younger anyway. You used to have a smile bigger than your eyes." the brunet uttered, looking a bit lost in the memory of it all.  
"I see." the oracle uttered, picking up an odd green ball from his plate. One that Thrawe had placed there, while commenting it was eye-wateringly bitter, just how Ulquiorra liked it.  
"Say, do you ever look into your own future, and see what you need?" Thrawe asked, curiously looking down at his short-stature master.  
"I don't need to see what I can already feel." Ulquiorra simply replied, placing a fabric to his mouth to wipe away the minor grease that had caught on his lips.

Cleaning the table Thrawe brought fresh towels to Ulquiorra's room and began to fill a large metal tub with hot water, which was a slow process as he had to carry boiled water back and forth from the stove.  
"Would it not be easier to simply heat the tub itself?" the oracle suggested, but Thrawe slowly shook his head.  
"The metal would heat up and burn you, master. That, and I would not want to come back and see that you had become a large bowl of wild-flower and Ulquiorra broth." the brunet spoke, placing the metal kettle down to begin putting cleansing properties into the tub. "Tonight is lavender." he uttered, standing behind Ulquiorra as he slipped his towel away from his shoulders for Thrawe to catch.  
"It smells nice." he spoke, raising his leg to dip his foot in first. Deciding it was adequate he soon climbed slowly into the metal basin and submerged himself into the water.  
"As it should, it's also got healing properties, Ulquiorra. So it will relax your muscles and allow you to rest peacefully tonight." the servant murmured, Folding the towel before hanging it over a railing close by. "Shall I leave you to soak, master?" the brunet asked, glancing over at the ebony haired man as he sunk down into the water until only his head was visible.  
"Very well." he murmured, swirling his hand underneath the water to cause the petals on the water's surface to ride across the ripples.

Leaving him in solace Thrawe wandered the corridors quietly, his head turning slowly as he looked over the many artefacts that Ulquiorra had collected over the years. Ancient pots with chapped lions and warriors painted on them to symbolise fights lost and won, large fans with metal prongs resting on the walls that were used to signal the flames of battle. Old chink-littered suits of armour standing up at corners, which occasionally gave the brunet a fright during the darkest hours of the night. Oil lamps that were now no more than decorations, giving the temple a sophisticated atmosphere. Swords that were shimmering in the dull light but blunt from long forgotten battles that wore them down centuries ago.

These were all items that made up Ulquiorra's home, along with his abundance of clothes, carpets and curtains. He had more paintings in every room, on every wall, than an art gallery in France would ever occupy in a lifetime. Each an indication of who he had met, where he had been, the ages he had grown through and the clothes that he had worn. In every drop of paint there was an air of mystery, a whisper of history. Nothing was ever the same, but his expression always remained the same. Cold, aloof, callous and expressionless. If Ulquiorra did not look angry, he looked sullen. During the dark hours of evening and the early lights of morning he was forlorn. Surrounded by enough food to feed a village, and every expensive object that was at his disposal, he never seemed happy.

There was nothing to be sad about, Thrawe thought. He could never be lonely as there were always guests and servants there to keep him company. There was always someone that would come at the drop of a hat to have an intellectual discussion with him. Perhaps the reason he was always melancholic was because he could read people's thoughts, see into their futures, so nothing was a surprise. Then again, Thrawe always assumed that his master could turn that ability on and off. It would drive any normal man crazy, but then again Ulquiorra had not been all that normal to begin with.

Stopping by a wooden door with black metal studs Thrawe looked around, the library. It was perhaps Ulquiorra's greatest 'la pièce de résistance'. There were probably thousands of books here alone, and more in the library upstairs and in the study, there was even a shelf in Ulquiorra's bedroom chamber suffocated by novels and dictionaries. There were too many books for one man to read in a life time, but that was nothing to Ulquiorra. He could touch a book and it was in his head in a heart beat, as if he had read it a thousand times before. What a brilliance that his master radiated when it came to literature. The chance to be intellectually enlightened was a dream felt by many, and yet so few had it in them to learn.

Thrawe had learnt how to read when he was twenty, as his master needed someone who was literate to not only read letters, but take and give orders in place of himself. Had he never met Ulquiorra he would probably never have become literate, and he thanked his master for that as it opened up all kinds of doors for him. He could enjoy the same things the oracle relished in, he could delve a little deeper into Ulquiorra's thoughts, and moderately understand his way of thinking a bit clearer. Shutting the door to the library Thrawe began to wander back towards the private bathhouse, the steam slithering through the gaps in the door as he opened it and stepped inside. His master had no need to turn his head as he could see Thrawe in the reflection of the stagnant water, the brunet was not quite sure Ulquiorra had even moved an inch since he had left a while ago.  
"Are you feeling well, master?" Thrawe enquired, observing Ulquiorra's tranquil expression. His elegant emerald eyes were hidden behind sheets of white and locked away by well-kept ebony eyelashes, his body still and his breathing shallow.

Quietly Thrawe came closer, his feet taking light steps. His master seemed like a remote island out at sea, his wet hair floating in the water and catching petals like a net. "Master?" Thrawe enquired softly, kneeling beside the edge of the tub with caution, Ulquiorra was well known by his servant to throw a nasty punch if he was startled. It was clear to him then that his master was deep in slumber, the soothing bath and ear-ringing silence relaxing him into a state of meditation. From there Thrawe's features softened, his opal orbs sinking slightly as he rested his arms across the side of the metal bath. Laying his chin on them to watch his master peacefully dream of the outermost reaches of the world and ponder over forgotten lore and tales, while questioning the marvellous people who started them.

It felt like mist was clouding over Thrawe's mind, his eyes sluggishly closing over until everything was swept over by a peaceful darkness. He could faintly see hills and mountain tops, a few flowers and lots of grassing running across his ankles. He liked to think that this was his connection into the mind of Ulquiorra, and that what his master was dreaming off was passing onto him for a short period of time. Opening his eyes after what felt like no more than a second Thrawe examined the dip between Ulquirra's ribs on his pale chest, his eyes shifting only a little to look at his arm that had rolled out from underneath him and into the bath, his hand resting on something soft and mysterious underneath the water.  
Uncertain and slightly confused from sleep Thrawe gave it a gentle squeeze, his eyebrows knitting together as he attempted to figure out just what was in his hand. Trailing his fingers up the soft surface he found there was a second object of the same width on the other side, it was not until he reached where they both started, and a larger shape began, that Thrawe stopped dead in his tracks. He was not quite sure why it took this long to really come to a reasonable conclusion as to what he was touching, but now it had all become as clear as day. This was of course the same bath that Ulquiorra had gotten into, and his master had been the very first thing he saw once he woke up. So it was almost painfully obvious just what his hand was resting on, and so blatantly clear where his fingers had began to caressing.

His master, when Thrawe turned his eyes up to look, was wake. Awake and boring his narrow pupils and large green eyes into him. He stiffened all at once, his line of vision sharpening to truly focus on the expression Ulquiorra was giving him. It was difficult to articulate at this point, how does someone truly explain their reason for sleeping by the side of the bath, and having a hand in the water stroking another man's leg, without coming across as not having any deviant intent?  
"You're awake." Thrawe spoke, pulling his hand out of the water sharply. "The water's cold." he stammered, jumping to his feet.  
"Yes." Ulquiorra stated, his head turning to dissect the brunet where he stood.  
"I'll get your towel." the brunet uttered, scrambling about to get it.  
Slowly Ulquiorra stood up, his damp skin glistening in the weak lamp light as he stepped out and onto the hard floor below. Holding out the towel Thrawe began to brush the rough fabric down his master's back, his eyes trailing the small paths drops of water had created down his spine. Subconsciously he had been stepping closer to the back of the oracle, his opal eyes examining the groove in his master's neck and shoulder. Reaching out his hand his fingers ran across Ulquiorra's skin, knocking a few petals to the floor in a slow, fluttering motion.

Turning his head to an angle Ulquiorra glanced up at Thrawe, who was too busy examining the small of his back to really notice him properly.  
"Thrawe." the raven haired man spoke, gaining the brunet's attention.  
"Sorry, I must be tired." Thrawe murmured, running his hand through his hair and drawing the towel away for a moment. Turning to face him completely Ulquiorra looked up at Thrawe, his large emerald eyes shifting as he examined him. A cold chill slithering down the brunet's back, he was being read.  
"Come to my chamber tonight." Ulquiorra simply uttered, taking the towel from his servant calmly. Taking a moment to take in what had just been said to him Thrawe blinked slightly.  
"Don't I always?" he enquired, not quite sure what to do with himself now. "I'll go make you something to drink, master." he uttered, leaving the room as soon as Ulquiorra had told him what he wanted brought to his chamber.  
Entering his master's room Thrawe took in the sights before him, the room glowed amber and the walls were aligned with statues of dancing women and mythical creatures. Each antiquate drawer or closet was made of wood and metal, and engraved in swirling, twisting formations that led the eye on a journey. Each item lead deeper into the room, the soft carpet drawing under Thrawe's weight as he went to a small wooden table, held up by two destitute women, carved into one another with their hands raised above their heads to hold the table up. Feeling a small draft of wind run through his hair Thrawe glanced at the windows, the curtains flapping slightly in the breeze at either side of the bed that sat between them.

Tracing the wooden carvings in the floor Thrawe stopped beside the bed, his eyes casting down upon the creases in the silk fabric and the discarded towel close by. He was not surprised when he turned to see Ulquiorra was by the table, testing his beverage quietly. This room had many pillars and small privacy screens, that his master obtained from England, to hide behind, so it was no surprise to him anymore when Ulquiorra appeared from nowhere.  
Quietly he observed Ulquiorra, who was looking at something at a distant corner of the room, he had stilled at that point, as though something was moving through the room that only he could see or hear until his eyes lead to his bed. Preparing the bed for the evening Thrawe put his concentration elsewhere, his body shifting uncomfortably when he felt the oracles attention fall onto him. Recently their interactions had been awkward, the brunet had begun finding it difficult to hide his actions from Ulquiorra's wandering eyes.

Hearing footsteps Thrawe paused and looked to the pale figure beside him from an angle, he had been loosing himself whilst indulging in Ulquiorra's company too many times for his own good.  
"Thrawe, you are acting strange." the oracle noted, causing his servant to stand up and turn to face him formally.  
"I think the heat is getting to me, that's all." he brunet replied, ignoring part of the curtain attaching itself to his leg.  
"So you're frustrated?" Ulquiorra enquired, watching his servant begin to traipse back and forth.  
"I feel like there's something I want to do, but I can't." Thrawe answered, crossing his arms stiffly.  
"What do you want to do?" the raven haired man asked.  
"Something I shouldn't, at least not without dire conse-, conse-… bad things happening." the brunet murmured, narrowing his gaze.  
"Consequences." the oracle corrected him, becoming somewhat cautious when the brunet turned to face him.  
"Yes, that." he sighed, turning away again to wander further down the bed.

Following him Ulquiorra bore his eyes into the brunet's back, stilling once again when Thrawe turned to look at him.  
"Maybe I need a break, to go somewhere." he spoke, rubbing his chin which crackled due to his slight stubble. "No, that's not it. I wouldn't be a loyal servant if I decided to go somewhere." he spoke in a rumbling voice. "It can't be woman related, I've never had much interest in any of the twelve women you keep at your disposal." Thrawe went on, narrowing his gaze. "Feels closer to the mark, however." he murmured, holding his jaw. "Maybe I could… no, that's a terrible idea." he spoke, shaking his head.  
"What would that be?" Ulquiorra asked, blinking slowly.  
"Maybe, maybe you could tell me what I need? It's not my place to ask, though. So it's a ridiculous idea." the brunet grumbled, tapping the side of his cheek.  
Feeling a hot and cold chill come over him Thrawe tensed, the back of his mind feeling as though it was misted over for a moment. Opening his eyes a little more Ulquiorra stared up at the brunet, whom looked back down at him with an expression of confusion and curiosity.  
"What's wrong?" the brunet asked, taking a mental step back when the pale figure rested his face against Thrawe's chest. "Are you well, master?" Thrawe asked, hesitating for a moment before putting his master backwards onto the bed behind them before making a fuss about getting a doctor. He did not get far however, as Ulquiorra grabbed the back of his Sarouel and pulled him towards him.  
"Thrawe." the oracle calmly stated, while continuing to watch Thrawe try to escape to find someone.  
"Stay still." the brunet protested, stiffening dramatically when Ulquiorra wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him down towards him. Their lips did not hit as the servant had flinched automatically, but Thrawe did get his face pressed against the crook of his master's neck and the fabric of the bed below them.

They did not move, let alone speak. Both trapped within an awkward position with Ulquiorra's heartbeat somehow intruding his thoughts. Feeling somewhat soothed the brunet felt his face drift to a half-lidded expression, a select part of him, which was holding him up off his master, loosening until he was resting against him completely. Running his fingers through the hair at the back of Thrawe's head Ulquiorra stared at the ceiling blankly, his head tilting when he felt Thrawe slide his arms up his sides as he tried to pull himself up off of the oracle.  
"I'm suddenly very tired and hot." the brunet murmured, attempting to balance himself. His head stayed down, but his shoulders lifted up, arching his back in the process.  
"How long have you been awake?" Ulquiorra asked, observing Thrawe as he rolled off of his master to lay on his back beside him.  
"Long enough to see the sun rise and fall at least three times." the brunet replied quietly, raising his hand to cup it over his eyes.  
"Then sleep." the raven haired figure spoke, glancing him over until he found that the servant had already fallen asleep. "It doesn't take an oracle to see what you need." Ulquiorra murmured, examining the ceiling above them. His body then tensing for a moment when he felt Thrawe wrap his arms around him and pull him flush against his chest. Looking up at the brunet, with his mouth hung open to speak, Ulquiorra did not make a sound, the look of serenity on his face drawing the oracle back into his mind.

He could see everything, but sometimes he just could not put a finger on what it was his servant needed. Recently it had been a mix between rest, from lack of sleep, and something else he could not quite comprehend fully. It was something he normally only saw in men looking to be with women. He would not have put it past Thrawe to have thoughts like that, however it always seemed to centre around Ulquiorra. This quiet situation was enough to bring the oracle to the conclusion that there was something Thrawe needed, but, even though he had stumbled upon the beginning of it, Thrawe did not completely know he wanted it.  
"I could lay like this with you for four cycles of the sun." Thrawe whispered in his sleep, resting his nose at the top of Ulquiorra's head. He probably knew what he wanted, even if it was only a little, but Ulquiorra definitely knew what he needed. Rolling his head further into Thrawe the oracle found the motion made the servant murmur slightly, his strong arms squeezing him a little as they both became comfortable. It was times like this that he could just stop thinking, and lose himself.


End file.
